The City-State Of Detroit Jan 19, 2018 8:55:06 GMT -5
Post by Damen Smull on Jan 19, 2018 8:55:06 GMT -5
Damen listened to what the female officer said in response to his offering. A laugh came from him as they were starting to approach the Terminal building. He said to her. "Ma'am, your talking to a man who slept on a ship that swayed from side to side and went up and down. I understand the feeling. On my first time on the Destroyer I was stationed on, the guy on the bunk under me, he couldn't stop getting sick from the motion of the ship going in each direction that it swayed or rocked. After three days, they told him that he wasn't suited for the Ship work and had him in the Dry docks where he was then placed to restocking the ships in Hawaii. That was the last time I heard of Seaman David Bower." The vehicle pulled up to the front of the building and was put into park, then the engine was turned off. Opening the driver side door, he grabbed the M-4 that sat on the floor board of the driver side. Slinging it over his neck and shoulder, he shut the door to the heavy vehicle and walked around the front of the vehicle to the passenger side. "We will be having a hot meal at 1800 hours. I think it would be best if you and your unit came and mingled with the rest of the people here so there isn't tension between each other. Get to know each other and what not. If you have any other questions or have concerns, I'll be up in the tower to see what we need to try and get this airport running since the terminals up there was shot to hell from previous attacks." Reaching his hand up to the brim of his hat, he tipped it slightly downward and said. "Ma'am." Then turned to walk towards the Air Traffic control tower. Walking over to it, he entered through the stairwell and climbed the flights of stairs until he reached the top.
Jan 14, 2018 15:00:12 GMT -5 @alexandralebedeva said:Alexandra thought about his question momentarily. There was plenty of space for them to sleep on the Mi-17Sh-VNs, but at the same time that would promote more of a gap between the American troops and her own, not to mention the garrison at this airport. If they were going to be here, they were going to need to act as one united force, and so giving it thought and seeing that she knew her men were not stranger to hangar buildings, she made her decision. "My men are airborne troops, commander. They're no stranger to hangars, we'll take the hangars. I will also have to graciously decline on the bedding, naturally my men brought their own. You understand right? After being deployed it becomes difficult to sleep in a bed that you are not used to."
Opening the door, he saw a few people up there looking over everything and was stripping the Terminals down to see what was needed and what didn't need to be touched. But from the piles of trash that was already made and how things kept being added to such piles. Shaking his head, he took his hat off and walked over to the small group of people. "So what's it looking like? Can we save these?" The one person who had his head inside the one computer who had a small flashlight in his mouth. This man was thin with little hair on his head. Damen remembered his name was Bartley, an Irish man from Boston. "Aye Commander. I don't Think we are going to be able to save these piles of Junk. They been shot up so badly that we would be best to rip out all of them and get new ones from other Towers that haven't been abused like this one. But even then...we aren't sure they will fire up and work if we get all the wiring set and placed. I was an electrician before hell broke through and can consider myself better then most...but it will take a miracle for us to find such equipment that isn't destroyed." Letting out a long, slow breath through his nose, Commander Smull nodded his head. "Ok, keep at it Scotty." Bartley just stared at Damen because of the comment and shook his head as he went to another terminal to look it over while saying. "Bloody Arse hole."